Mr So Cool Guy
by Soporific
Summary: oneshot. Alright, now I'm officially annoyed. I felt like he just said to me, "Guess what?" and when I say, "What?" he says, "Never mind." Ahhhh! : Elena's first, second, and last impressions of a certain redhead.


**Disclaimer: **Final Fantasy VII belongs to Squaresoft/Square-Enix. Octopus' Garden belongs to The Beatles. Me no own. You no sue.

**A/N:** Hello, hello, hello! This is my second fic, and the plot was just some random thing I thought of when I was in the shower, and a fic sort ofemerged from there.. Hehe, I honestly love Reno, and I really hope his portrayal here isn't OOC.. I also love how Reno and Elena get along, even though I'm no Reno/Elena fan.. Anyway, enjoy!

**Mr. So Cool Guy**

The first time I met him was my first day there. It had only been the first day; yet, I was already exhausted with everything I had seen. I hadn't expected anything, so by the end of the day when I walked into that room, I had braced myself to expect _everything_ – except him. He was just sitting there in an office swivel chair, his feet up on the table, a cigarette dangling dangerously from the corner of his mouth. When my new boss started introducing me, he turned around, his eyes lit up and looked into my own. I knew he was studying me. It made me extremely conscious of myself, and somewhat cautious. So I did the only logical thing I could do – I studied him.

The first thing I noticed was his eyes; they were a bright green colour, and they were looking at me, twinkling with a child's innocence and curiosity. I was immediately compelled. Somehow it occurred to me that there might be something else behind that twinkle. The next thing about him I noticed was his hair. It was fiery red, a most unusual hair colour. The red was so vivid I wondered why I didn't notice it straight away. His hair was extremely messy; his bangs were held up by a pair of sunglasses on his head, with a few strands of red on his face, adding that look of a child's naivety, and he had a long, thin rat tail tied at the back of his head.

The next thing I noticed was his clothes. When I saw them, only one thought came to mind: _un-ironed shirt_. His white shirt was spotless, yet it was wrinkled to the extent that made me think that he had slept in it the night before – and the night before that. His shirt was untucked, and the first three buttons were undone. He was also wearing a pair of navy blue pants, also wrinkled – though not as much as the shirt – and a navy blue blazer which buttons he didn't bother doing up. His tie was missing, and his shoes look like they were never shined.

My eyes traveled back to his face. He had sharp features, making him fairly decent looking. Alright, so that was an understatement. He had looks that made every female within a 10 meter radius go 'gaga' at him. Every female – except me of course, because it was simply rude to go 'gaga' at your new colleague, not to mention extremely embarrassing. I looked into those green orbs of his again, when suddenly our eyes met. He smirked. I couldn't help but blush. When his boss – and now mine – had finished introducing me, he winked at me, then swiveled around in his chair and faced his desk once again. I was standing there, beetroot red by now, wondering why he was smirking at me. What did I do? Did I have something on my face? I was being paranoid, I know, but I couldn't help it. He made me nervous. Later I found out why he smirked. It was like a smile of acknowledgement, only he never smiles; just smirks, grins, or sneers, but never smiles. So he was Mr. So Cool Guy – not exactly my type of person.

Over the months, I began to get to know Mr. So Cool Guy. There were other things about him besides his green eyes, red hair, scruffy clothes and smirks; that was his mouth. He had the sharpest mouth known to man. That mouth never bothers to bite back any of his thoughts, which usually leads to arguments between him and others. But even then, he would always win the argument. His brain had the capability to think up just about every witty thing that can be said, and the capability to annoy the hell out of people with it; including me.

When Mr. So Cool Guy first gave me his innocent puppy-eyes look, I knew something was off. And I was right. Behind those flurry of innocent façades was mischief – and lots of it; one extremely unique and unforgettable thing about him. That day when I first met him, I thought he was just some slack guy who acts cool and keeps to himself. Not entirely wrong. Mr. Cool Customer _seems_ to play it cool, calm and confident, but when the time asks for it, he strikes. The 'time' is usually when things begin to get a little to boring for his liking. Goodness knows how he can think up all those pranks by himself. That cursed brain of his – he is so gifted it's almost sad. As for the unforgettable part of his mischief, well, let's put it this way; it's a little impossible to forget what he can do. And it's best to remember anyway, so as you won't underestimate the little devil – a mistake I've made too often.

I've learnt my lesson _way_ too often for my liking. It's hard to not get angry and start shouting at him once he had successfully pulled another one of his infamous pranks. Usually I crack it, which is what he was after all along. You see, one of his hobbies is seeing people crack it. He thinks it's funny, I think he needs to get a life. Funny though, how I can't stay angry at him for long – he also has the talent of making people laugh in the weirdest of times. The bad news is: he only does it when he knows his victim has just about enough of him, so that they'll forgive him just enough to give him a whole new opportunity altogether to pull a fresh prank. I don't know how it works every single time, but take it from my experience – it just does.

After a few long months working with Mr. So Cool Guy, I thought I had finally discovered all his sides and quirks. He always regarded me as a child, or so was the impression I was getting. One of his favorite nicknames for me was 'rookie', and I suspect that the name will stick forever, no matter how long it has been since my first day there. He didn't take me seriously; almost _inferiorly_ even. So I wanted him to treat me like an equal, he _was_ my colleague after all. That was why I tried to understand him; I wanted to be able to read him like a book. Heh. I actually thought it was possible. Again, I was wrong. There was another side of Mr. So Cool Guy he never shows, or more like, he never tries to show - until now.

It was a typical evening after a hard day's work. I was feeling extremely exasperated. Things hadn't been going on the way I wanted it to. In other words, I had messed things up. I wasn't looking forward to going back; I knew he was going to be there to mess with my already messed-up mind. So when I entered, I slammed the door hard and plopped down on the couch. Sulking, I threw my shoes off and picked up the crossword in front of me. I had this thing for crosswords; my grandfather was 96 when he died, but even at that age his brain was still as sharp as ever. When I asked my grandmother how that was possible, she only said, "crosswords." I figured out that because he kept on using his brain constantly – even for something as trivial as crosswords – it had prevented his brain from going blunt, despite his age. Since then I've developed a rather strange habit of doing crosswords - in newspapers, magazines, and so on. One would think that I'd get better and better; wrong.

I sat up on the couch, and felt something was missing. _Huh_. Weird. Then it hit me. No word from Mr. So Cool Guy yet. I decided that this was a plus, and didn't say anything. Instead, I glanced down at my crossword, and frowned. Before I knew it, reflex, or habit, had caught me off guard. You see, along with my complete-the-crossword habit, came another one; whenever I don't have an answer, I would automatically ask whoever was in the room.

"Which Beatles' song was released in the 1969 album 'Abbey Road' and was originally written by Ringo Starr?"

I cursed myself silently. Stupid crossword. I bit my lip, and waited for his smart-ass comment. None came. I turned around and looked over to where he was. He was sitting on the kitchen table, looking half-dead, one hand covering his face, and a bottle of whiskey in the other. I got to my feet, and walked over him, curiosity suddenly replacing my previous frustration. No reaction. Automatically, I took the bottle from him, his hands letting go of it as if he wasn't even holding it in the first place, and placed the bottle on the table. Too much whiskey is never good for you, and knowing this guy, this might have been his tenth bottle.

He didn't respond. I raised an eyebrow. Since when does he not mind that I just took his 'supply'? Usually, he wouldn't even let me go near any of his things, saying that I wasn't "responsible enough". Responsible enough my ass. Now I was really curious. What the hell is wrong with him?

I called out his name. No response. I poked him in the face. No response. I called out his name _and_ poked him in the face. Still no response. He wasn't dead, was he? I lifted his arm which held the whiskey bottle moments before and checked his pulse. It was there, definitely there, so why isn't he budging?

Alright, now I'm officially annoyed. I felt like he just said to me, "Guess what?" and when I say, "What?" he says, "Never mind." Ahhhh! I just have to find out what's wrong with him now. In an attempt to get a response, I ruffled his hair, hoping to annoy him, knowing that he wouldn't let anyone touch his "extremely sensitive to normal-human-touch" hair. When I ran my fingers ran through his red locks though, I was immediately surprised; his hair felt so soft, like a little child's. I had always thought it was dry and stiff, just like the rest of him. I was standing there for what seemed like minutes, when it was only seconds, just playing with his hair, smoothing it out, my head tilted to one side, trying to understand this little mystery.

So you can imagine how taken aback I was when his head suddenly jerked up. I pulled my hand back instantly, and glanced at his face. There were bags under his eyes, his bangs were messy, his lips were forming a somber pout, and his eyes were red from…crying? I stared at him, and he stared at me. After a few moments, he lifted his gaze and let his head drop back to the table, face down, letting out a little groan as he did so.

_Uh-oh_, I thought. "Umm… Sorry, I didn't mean to stare, I-"

…But I was already lost for words. _Shit._ Then, he lifted his hand and did a little motion in the air, as if to wave it off. _Huh._ Weird. I still feel bad though, so I pulled up a chair next to him and sat down. After a while, things began to feel a little uncomfortable, so I decided to try and start a conversation.

"Uhhh..." And again, I had no idea what to say. _Think before you open your mouth, you idiot! _I was mentally kicking myself. _Well done. _Someone remind me, why was I doing this again?

"It's alright." His voice was croaky, and he was practically choking the words out.

"Umm… Are you OK?" I found my voice at last, but boy do I sound smart.

"I'm fine." His reply was stoic and toneless, but at least he didn't choke it out.

The silence began to settle in again. I didn't want to break it; I was too afraid. My curiosity can only take me so far. Part of me just wanted to get up, walk off, and shut myself in my room without another word. But a little part of me – the part that got me here in the first place – wanted to find out what the hell is going on. I mean, he was definitely drunk, but depressed? He's never depressed, even when he's drunk. On the contrary, he goes on extreme highs. So this depressed Mr. So Cool Guy is a new thing for me, and I was _dying_ to get behind the scenes. As the silence drained on, I was seriously considering my first option, seeing as I have no clue whatsoever what the hell I'm doing here.

"You don't have to force yourself you know. You can just go."

I was caught by surprise again, though this time the words came tumbling out of my mouth before I can stop them.

"I _can_."

He raised his head again, slowly. He looked at me, a perfect eyebrow arched.

"I've always said you were too nosy for your own good."

_Oh, whoops. _"That comment must have slipped my mind."

Then slowly, something tugged the corner of his lips, and they began to curve upwards. _Oh my gawd. _He was smiling. Not smirking, not sneering, not grinning. Smiling. Just like that. _Wow._ I couldn't believe my eyes. I blinked back my surprise, and he snorted.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"_What?_" I pressed on.

His trademark smirk returned. "Never seen a guy smile before obviously, have you?"

I blushed. How the hell did he know what I was thinking?

"It's part of my job, you know, reading people's minds." His smirk grew.

I opened my mouth in surprise.

He got up, and I quickly closed my mouth. He didn't look too steady at first, but he managed to stand up straight and take the bottle from the table without falling over. I held my breath as he walked away, too shocked, scared and embarrassed to speak. The door of his room was just about to close, when he stuck his head out one last time.

"Oh, by the way, it's 'Octopus' Garden'." And with that, he disappeared out of sight, the sound of a door closing following behind him.

I was momentarily stunned, trying to figure out what he just said. When finally my brain finished processing his words, it was too late to retort.

_Hmph_. But I was smiling. At least Mr. So Cool Guy knows his music.

**A/N:** Heheh, weird, I know.. Again, no names mentioned.. Umm, yes, please review! My other fic had 93 hits and only 1 review! '( Does that mean one in every 93 people review? Pweeeeeeeaaaassseee review, I'm asking really nicely... ) You see, I have zero self-confidence in my writing abilities, so I would really, _really_ appreciate if you can tell me how to improve.. Please? Ok, I'll stop begging. BTW, the crossword thing is sort of a portrayal of my own grandfather...and the song? Eheh, yeah,don't ask, butit's a really funny song, go listen to it!


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